


How to Return Home

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Family Loss, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Langst, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 19:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Title from a song by Kerrigan-Lowdermilk. A request from my tumblr for "the langst-iest thing I could think of."





	How to Return Home

“Honestly, the thing that’s keeping me going is just thinking about going back to Earth,” Lance sighed. He and Pidge were lying on the floor in the hangars, staring through the ceiling window at the stars. 

“Really?” Pidge asked, sitting up a bit.

“Why is that surprising?” Lance chuckled.

“I mean, I guess I just… don’t think about Earth that often. Since we found Matt, and I know both my parents are… well, you know. There’s just nothing keeping me tied to Earth anymore.”

Lance frowned. “Well, when we finally go back, you’re staying with us. My mom will cook you dinner.”

“Really? In Cuba?”

“Yeah! She’s the best cook. She’ll make whatever you want, as long as you ask, but no matter what, I’m making you try ropa vieja.”

She frowned. “What’s that?” 

“Only the most  _delicious_ thing you’ll ever have in your entire life!” Lance cried, rocketing into a sitting position. “It’s shredded steak and beans with rice.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything special.”

“It’s Cuba’s national dish, so  _excuse you_ , first of all, you uncultured swine,” he trilled, “and secondly, my mom makes it SO good. Like, SO good. You won’t believe it.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

But Lance vowed that some day, he’d show her.

* * *

 

Time passed differently when you were drifting out in the universe. 

Lance cursed himself for not remembering that, for getting his hopes up that anything would be the same. He should have given up any optimism as soon as he caught Allura by the arms and flashed his dazzling smile, the one everyone always said he got from his mom, to her. You could never go back to a place. As soon as you take your last toe out of the ocean tide, it’s going to be different the next time you dip it in. Things change despite you, not because of you.

His house was relatively the same, but it was clear that no one had lived there for many years, which told him one thing: his family was dead. 

There was a certain pride that they took in their family name, in their childhood home, and even after the passing of his mother, one of the siblings would have overtaken the property and kept it nice. Since it was unkempt and wild, he knew that whichever of his siblings had been tasked with the yardwork had not simply neglected it.

“Lance…” Matt breathed, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just… I want to look around.”

“You shouldn’t…” Pidge warned. “It’s gonna hurt.”

Lance shook his head. “I  _have_  to look around,” he clarified. “Whatever happens is going to be with me for the rest of my life. I’d rather know what’s inside than speculate from the porch.” 

Matt gripped Lance’s hand as he followed him inside his childhood home. Three steps in, he knew it was a mistake.

Every wall of the house was lined with sticky notes. Lance walked over to one, pulling it off the wall with a delicate hand.

“Lance, mijo, mi sol, mi amor,

  * clean your room!
  * there are dishes in the wash
  * i love you



–mama”

Lance gripped the note, folding it neatly and tucking it in his pocket. 

“This is how my mom used to remind us to do chores,” he clarified. “She was a list person.”

A few more steps into the house revealed more notes, though most of them were just lists of chores, some of them weren’t, and Matt knew Lance could feel his heartbeat in his wrist.

“Lance, mijo, mi amor, mi sol,

  * your hermano misses you
  * your hermanita is wearing blue eyeshadow and needs your help
  * i’ll make your favorite, ropa vieja



-mama”

Lance crushed this one and let it fall to the floor. “This one’s ‘reasons I should come home.’”

“Lance, please, stop doing this to yourself,” Matt pleaded. “It’s not worth it.”

Lance paid him no mind, instead, pulling a note from beside the landline phone.

“Lance, mijo, mi amor, mi sol, mi todo,

  * casket: $1750
  * memorial: ~$4050
  * headstone: $938



mijo, there’s food in the freezer

love always and forever,

mama”

Lance closed his eyes and let his memory guide him to the freezer. It didn’t take much: he’d done it in the dark when he as a kid sneaking for a midnight snack. His mother had usually heard him and joined him until he fell soundly asleep.

The freezer was packed with dry ice, so that even though the electric had been cut from not paying the bills, the contents were still cold. Only a single tupperware sat in the freezer, causing Lance to stagger back two steps into Matt before regaining his balance and taking the package from the freezer. 

“So,” he asked, sounding choked, “who wants to try my mom’s ropa vieja?”


End file.
